INTRO LOG: A TAXING JOURNEY

[hadrielmods]

Who: New arrivals and everyone else!
What: The intro log for December. Watch your step!
Where: The colosseum and all around the city.
When: December 10th-17th
Warnings: Taxxon-related violence, teeth shoes, general unpleasantness, mass confusion.

You wake up in the dust of the colosseum with no shoes on, regardless of the state of your feet when you arrived. There's dust covering your clothing and in your hair, but other than that, there's no signs of injury or bruising. You're also not alone- nearby, there are others, either still passed out or just waking up like you are. Feel free to take solace in that fact. Or don't- some of you aren't human, and are clearly not great people either. No offense.

To your left, there is a door in the wall of the arena, supposedly leading to the halls which will then show you to your freedom. To your right, and scattered haphazardly on the ground, are a myriad of teeth shoes. These shoes might be better than going barefoot right now, but good luck finding a matching set, let alone one that fits you.

When you do eventually try to escape, be careful. The halls are crawling with Taxxons. Large and grotesque, these caterpillar-like creatures have circular mouths and multiple rows of sharp teeth. Their sense of smell is impeccable, and they will stop at nothing to feed when they scent blood. So, you know, try to avoid stepping on anything sharp on your way out.

All done with the horrible monsters and awkward greetings? Try your hand at exploring the rest of the city! Find a house, find a new monster, or simply scavenge for supplies until your little heart is content. Good luck, and enjoy your stay in Hadriel!

► This log covers December 10th-17th.
► Feel free to make your own logs, as well!
► Characters may find their own shoes scattered around with the teeth shoes if you like.
► All characters now arrive with phones that have network communication.
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!

Comments

shoes;

[howlingblast]

[Furykill has found one boot and he's searching for the other. He's inspecting a saronite plated boot that is ten sizes too small, wondering who it belongs to, when Koltira's voice hits his ears.

Oh. He hadn't seen him when he first woke up, probably because Koltira is a good deal smaller and easier to miss, but... well. He nearly drops the boot, then thinks better of it, and holds it out to him instead.]

Take it. I have no need for an elf-sized boot.

[His one bare foot is green and covered in old bandages.]

Have you been injured? [If he sounds a little unsure, it's because he is. He's never, like, directly reported to him more than once. And he's not good at making friends.]

[respired]

[Good fuckin' choice, Rags. Koltira all but snatches the boot from him; he saw that grip weaken. He saw it.

He recognizes this orc, though the details are slow in coming. Koltira's issued orders to so many--and so many, like Furykill, don't necessarily come back.]

I was. But no longer.

[He doesn't put on the boot--he needs the other one, first, and he's not about to impede his movement.]

[howlingblast]

[In his defense, he'd spent the past twenty years enslaved in one form or another, of course he ran for the hills as soon as he could manage it.]

How fortunate.

[He doesn't try to forge past the awkwardness. He generally groans inwardly whenever he sees an elf but Koltira is sort of important and he is not great at holding his tongue, regardless. He grunts, not much for conversation even on a good day, and resumes searching through weird teeth shoes for his remaining boot.]

[respired]

It was. For a number of reasons.

[Koltira joins the search. The piles are numerous, and although their armor is unique, it's easily hidden beneath pair after pair of teeth shoes.]

Remind me of your name, brother.

[howlingblast]

Lieutenant Rag'kar Furykill. [A pause. He doesn't bother with eye contact, which is kind of rude, but he's brusque in every way.] Retired.

[He finds his boot before Koltira. It's large enough to be full of other shoes. He pulls out a high heel covered with teeth, all straps and disgust.]

Ugh.

[He tosses the heel away, then turns his boot upside down and dumps the rest of the weird shoes out onto the ground. He shoves it onto his foot-- makes a face-- and pulls out one more tooth shoe before putting it on PROPERLY. Again.]

I hate this place already.

[respired]

[The name rings a bell, faintly. In any case, he considers Furykill his responsibility now. They are not on Azeroth anymore, but that doesn't matter to Koltira--the chain of command will hold. Must hold. Because his brothers and sisters are volatile, and they are among the living.]

And do you recall my name, Furykill?

[The boots are temporarily forgotten. This needs to be addressed.]

[howlingblast]

Yes, Deathweaver. [He can't recall Koltira's exact rank. Just below Mograine, probably. Maybe a Forsaken general? He can't actually place that, since Furykill has kinda been fucking off into the wilderness for the past several months.]

Why? I am not prone to forgetting things that have happened recently. [Death knights have memory problems when it comes to before their resurrection.]

[respired]

[This one's sassy. Koltira raises an eyebrow. He'll let it slide for the present, because it's a re-introduction, but he won't tolerate that kind of waspish tone indefinitely.]

Then you understand your position. And mine.

[howlingblast]

[He gives Koltira a long-suffering look.]

I will control myself, as I always have. I have never been thrown out of a city because I attacked the townsfolk. [Which is true.] And if I am pressed to do so, I will make sure not to be seen.

[respired]

If you are pressed to do so, come see me.